Dragon Tales
by BlueWolfStoryTeller
Summary: Set in the TV series. Individual short stories featuring the many adventures of Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. Read about what happened when Viserion accompanied Her Jorah to by new boots, just what happens when you hit a dragons friend and see the moment Ghost met Rhaegal.
1. Ser Jorah and the dragon

Sir Jorah and the Dragon

Qarth: midway through Season 2

Looking down at his boots Sir Jorah Mormont sighed with resignation, both pairs were in tatters. The soles on pair had more holes than a fishing net and the uppers of the second were little more than slashed pieces of leather held together by clumsy stitches of horse gut. In fact most of his clothing was ragged and his armour was beaten and mangled. By the generosity of Xaron Xhoan Daxos he had clothing made of silk and cotton, delicate slippers of the softest silk and leather and soft wool cloaks to keep off the night chill. Fitting for high society of Qarth but little use travelling or sailing in the wilds of Essos. There was little point in putting it off, he needed to buy new.

Walking out onto his balcony, his green cotton trousers, light plum shirt and plum slippers soft and cool, Sir Jorah looked out over the luxurious gardens. He could think of several ways to spend such a fine day but needs must. For a day at least he could trust the Dothraki to look after Daenerys.

Buckling on his sword, placing a pouch of money into a bag and leaving a message with a Dothraki warrior Sir Jorah headed toward the gates of the mansion. As he walked there came a flutter of wings. Looking around he saw Viserion flying towards him. Smiling he held out his arm, the golden dragon landing on it with a cawing of affection. Chuckling Sir Jorah stroked his head, puffs of smoke pouring out of the dragons nose as his tail swished happily.

"Now then I need to go out, fly back to your mother."

At this Viserion fluttered onto Sir Jorah's shoulder. There was a look of defiance on the little dragon's eyes, Viserion was not going to move just because he had been told to. Not for the first time Sir Jorah found himself wondering at just how intelligent the dragons really were.

"She's not going to be happy that you have gone out without her," Sir Jorah said, looking at the dragon.

At this Viseron just cawed, stretched his wings and let out a puff of smoke. Shaking his head, Sir Jorah left word with a Dothraki women that Viserion has gone out with him then left the mansion. At the gates he spoke a couple of guards, the guards more than happy to point him in the right direction. Added to that they told him which craftsmen were patronised by Xaron Xhoan Daxos, which ones couldn't be trusted, warned him of the local rouges, informed him of the best inns and also made it clear that even in Qarth a dragon could attract attention.

'The dragon would be best remaining within the mansion walls," one of the guards said.

"Plenty of rouges would happily kill for a prize like that," said another, curiously reaching out a hand to stroke Viserion.

Seconds later the same guard let out a ripe curse as Viserion's teeth sunk into his hand. Drawing it back the man gasped as blood poured from it onto the ground. Swiftly wrapping it in his cloak the guard looked at the dragon, his eyes wide with pain and surprise.

"No such an easy prize to take! This treasure has fangs," the guard replied.

"He has fire too. Take care my friend and thank you," Sir Jorah said.

Leaving the guard to tend to his wounds Sir Jorah and Viserion set off into Qarth. All around them people going about their lives, a dozen languages spoken, stalls selling everything from jade to silk. Merchants from Essos and beyond vying for business in shops and stalls. Hogs, cattle, fowls, dogs, horses and cats for sail. Perfumes mingling with spices filling the air. Oxen and horses pulling carts, the wealthy riding in slave carried litters. Free men and women strolled through the streets while slaves hurried past on their masters' business. In sunny spots spoilt pets and ragged street cats lounged gracefully.

Sitting on Sir Jorah's shoulder Viserion looked around, his senses overwhelmed by all the sights, smells and noises. Half curious half afraid he crouched low on Sir Jorah's shoulder, hissing with fear at anyone who dared approach him. With his golden scales glittering in the sun he was like a living jewel out of the ashes of Old Valyria.

When Sir Jorah stopped at a stall to buy some fresh fruit Viserion fluttered down onto the wooden boxes. Looking at him the stall holders six year old daughter tossed him a date. As it sailed through the air Viserion let out a small burst of flame toasting the date in mid air. Snatching it in his sharp teeth the golden dragon ate in as the little girl clapped. Croaking with delight Viserion flapped back onto Sir Jorah's shoulder, unaware of the amazed look of the people around him.

Paying for his fruit Sir Jorah thanked the man for his kindness. At this the man smiled, saying seeing a live dragon would be a memory he would cherish for years to come. Admit the hustle and bustle Sir Jorah and Viserion soon arrived at the the address of the shoemaker who made all the boots for Xaron Xhoan Daxos and his guards. A large stone building, well made, airy with light streaming in from windows the whole shop betrayed an air of wealth. Inside a man in his late fifties was talking to a couple of that smartly dressed young men from behind a counter. With easy smiles the two men left and the older man turned his attention to Sir Jorah, his eyes eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Viserion.

"Are you Benham Rashne (name are of Persian origin. Benham means reputable Rashne means judge)?" Sir Jorah asked.

"That I am my good Sir. I see from your friend that you have arrived with the girl known as Daenerys Mother of Dragons."

"I have. I am Sir Jorah Mormont. I was informed by guards of Xaron Xhoan Daxos that you are the man to speak too for good quality new boots."

"I have the pleasure of serving Xaron Xhoan Daxos these past six years, along with many other notable families. As his guest I would be delighted to be of your assistance," Benham replied.

Motioning for Sir Jorah to sit on a silk covered chair Behnam smiled once again. Taking a seat on one of five chairs Sir Jorah took his old boots out of his bag as Benham walked over with a tape-measure around his neck, a piece of leather in one hand and chalk in another. Flapping onto a seat beside Sir Jorah, Visereon looked around him curiously. At the opposite said of room a sand coloured cat with a spotted coat laying sleeping in a patch of light in front of a window. Every so often its eyes would just open ever so slightly revealing tawny eyes. Looking at the boots Benham's face turned grim.

"Both pairs are far beyond repair even for this workshop!"

"They served me well for many years, I had blisters for a month wearing them in."

"My boots will be of far better quality my friend as I use only the best leather."

As Benham measured Sir Jorah's feet, discussed stitching, colour and style, Viserion flapped his way over to the sleeping cat. Tilting his head to one side he eyes the creature curiously. Stepping forward he sniffed the creature. In an instant the eyes flashed open, the cat's paws lashing forward with a burning fury, the claws lightly scratching his body. Roaring with pain Viserion took the air, first biting the cat's tail before unleashing a bust of dragon fire onto the cat's attacking paw. Yowling with pain the cat leaped into the air as the fire took hold of its fur. Shrieking with anger Viserion flew over ahead as Sir Jorah as he and Benham leaped to their feet. Grabbing the old boots Behman beat the flames with them, all the with the cat screaming, writhing and lashing out in pain. Upset by the ruckus several of Benham's workers, including his two sons appeared at the counter.

With its fur free from fire the cat bolted from the room leaving Behman holding two burnt boots in two badly scratched and singed hands. From his perch on Sir Jorah's shoulder Viserion cawed in pain, the scratches on his body dripping blood. Helping his father to his feet the eldest of Benham's son shot an angry look at Sir Jorah.

"Good Sir please keep your pet under control," the son Benham Junior said.

"My apologies. I am not sure Viserion had ever met a cat before."

"Well he picked on old devil approach. That one is a fine mouser but anyone who touches it pays the price," Benham replied, wincing with pain.

'Then the cat received what it was due, now please we need to treat your injuries Father and that of the dragon," said a slim young woman.

"My wife Jaleh (Persian meaning dew),) Benham Junior said kindly.

"Please come into the back Sir Jorah. Father please you as well, those scratches need cleaning and binding," Jaleh said in a tone that broke no argument.

Together the group walked into the bustling workshop, full of boots and shoes being made. Soft leather for the nobility, harder leather for their guards, bundles of leather of various colours sitting on shelves, bright silk in a thousand colours spilling from other shelves, voices calling out to one another. To one side perfect boots and shoes with name tags stood awaiting collection. Men and women of Benham Senior's employ working on customer orders.

Leaving the workshop Jaleh guided them to a tiled outside patio covered by a canopy of wood under which stood a long table with a bench each side. Placing two bowls of water on the table along with a glass jar of salt, a bundle of badges and two clean clothes. Stirring the salt into the bowls she picked up a rag, gently she cleaning Benham Seniors wounds. As the salt water hit the cuts Benham uttered oaths. Binding his wounds Jaleh turned her attention to Viserion, the little dragon sitting on the table looking nervous.

"Sir Jorah I will need your to hold him still for me, this may sting."

"Sir Jorah bind his mouth with this," Benham Junior said, handing Sir Jorah a long piece of cut off leather.

Looking down at Vision Sir Jorah felt a spike of unease race through him, Daenerys would not be happy when she learnt what had happened to her golden son today. Binding Viserion's mouth Sir Jorah saw the fear in the little dragon's eyes, his tail lashing from side to side. Holding the squirming dragon tightly Sir Jorah nodded to Jaleh. Taking the cloth in hand Jalah quickly cleaned the cat scratches, all the while Viserion writhing with pain, his tail lashing feebly against the table. Dropping her cloth Jaleh nodded to Ser Sir Jorah that it was she to release the golden dragon. Swiftly removing the leather Ser Jorah released Viserion, at once the dragon hissing angrily and flying up into the rafters.

"It was for your own good Viserion, this is what happens if you tease cats," Ser Jorah called, looking up at the dragon.

At his Viserion let out an angry roar, lashing his tail and flapping his wings. Laughing Ser Joarah thanked Jaleh for his help while once again apologising profusely to Benham Junior and Senior for the mischief his visit had caused. Smiling despite the pain Benham accepted the apology in the spirit of which had been given. Taking payments for the boots in advance he promised to have them ready within ten days, as a friend of his great patron it was only fitting. Shaking hands the two men parted on good terms, once Ser Jorah had promised to the leave the dragons at home on his next visit.

Flying down from the rafters Viserion settled down onto Sir Jorah's shoulder. Smiling Ser Jorah left the workshop throughout a side gate, emerging once more into the busy morning streets. Leaving the streets full of shoe makers Ser Jorah walked through the throngs, ignoring the curious looks and whispers. He didn't notice some children playing nor did he notice them gasp at the dragon or run off. Plenty of children play in the streets.

Stepping inside the a large bazaar Ser Jorah walked until he saw a clothing stall with the sign of a needle and mouse on it. At the stall a handsome women in her middle forties was straightening bolts of cotton in several different colours. Dressed in cotton of a deep pink she was a handsome woman. Seeing them she looked up, a smile on her face.

"Good morning. I am Bahija (Arabian meaning joyous) Rafiq (Arabian meaning friend, kind, helper, merciful). How might I be of assistance Sir?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont. Guards as the residence of Xaron Xhoan Daxos told me you make clothing that will last on long journeys."

"Ah yes I heard in the bazaar that Daxos was hosting a dragon queen, for once gossip is not misplaced," the Bahija Rafiq replied in an easy smile.

"Making it first in a long time," called a woman from the stall beside which sold cloaks.

"I need new shirts, trousers and two cloaks," Sir Jorah said.

"Will your golden be friend be wanting anything?" Bahija Rafiq asked as Viserion flapped his wings.

"No no he is just curious," Ser Jorah laughed.

"Well Sir Jorah let me measure you, please step inside.'

Walking into a small area beside the stall Ser Jorah and Bahija Rafiq discussed the cut, style and colour of the clothing. Flapping around the stall Viserion watched traffic going by. Sitting on the top of the stall he could looked like a carved statue until he moved, causing more than one shopper to yelp in shock.

Promising to deliver the clothing within a fortnight Bahija Rafiq introduced Ser Jorah to her neighbour Ikram (Arabian meaning respect) the maker of cloaks. As Ser Jorah and Ikram were discussing cloaks Viserion let out a roar, blasting fire onto the hair of a boy who was removing Ser Jorah's purse from his bag. Yelping with pain the boy fell onto the floor as Viserion bit into his left arm, his teeth slicing onto the boys skin. At once two men from a carpet stall across the way rushed over, their faces full of anger as they hastily put out the flames. Flapping in the air Viserion hissed as the boy was roughly pulled to his feet, his hair burnt and his left arm dripping with blood.

"Bloody thief!"

"Worthless brat, let this be a lesson to you."

"Hand over purse and anything else stolen today," Bahija Rafiq snapped, glaring at the boy.

"Why? That creature attacked me," the boy replied, glaring at the adults defiantly.

'We tell the City Watch. Your cuts are not treated and you loose a hand as punishment for theft or else are sold as a slave for the mines," Bahija Rafiq replied furiously.

At this the defiance seemed to leave the boy as the reality of his fate hit home. His loot was not worth loosing a hand for and the gold mines were brutal places that had a name of dread for all slaves. A free man could earn a good living in them, it was respectable and profitable with rich rewards for dangerous work. A slave down there was given the most dangerous jobs, jobs free men would not touch meaning their lives could be short and brutal.

"Think boy. You want to live. Make amends to these good people and perhaps one of them might help you. I am sure there is plenty of work for a lad who is willing," Ser Jorah said kindly, kneeling down to look at the boy.

Nodding slowly the boy emptied a ragged brown bag he was carrying. Inside a gold necklace laid with red jewels, four other purses and six gold rings set with a variety of precious stones. Looking between the stall holder and the dragon the boy took to his heels, vanishing into the teaming crowd as the adults looked on sadly.

"That fool, I'd have given him a job running our messages if he'd have stayed," Ikram said sadly.

"Boys like him are plenty," said one of the men shaking his head.

Turning their attention to the ill gotten gains the stall holders agreed they should go to Sir Jorah. Looking at Viserion they marvelled at his keen eyesight as he settled back onto Ser Jorah's shoulder. Shaking their heads while muttering about the curse of thieves the stall holder returns to their stalls. Purchasing two cloaks Ser Jorah paid for both the cloaks and half in advanced for his other clothing.

Leaving the bazaar Ser Jorah and Viserion made their way through the afternoon sun. Stopping at an inn near the docks named The King's Rest, Ser Jorah took some lunch and ale. From other tables men looked the dragon with awe while the barkeep watched suspiciously least the dragon set his bar alight. From his place at the end of the bar Ser Jorah listened the chatter of the other patrons, how Rob Stark had been named King in the North, of the advances of the Lannister army under Sir Tywin himself, how both Stannis and Renley Baratheon were competing for the Iron Throne, of the expulsion of the famous Sir Barristram Selmey from the King's Guard and of the rule of King Joffrey. Finishing his meal and overcome by a sense of unease Ser Jorah paid the barkeep before slipping hurriedly out the door.

Walking at a pace through the streets Sir Jorah began to regret bringing Viserion out with him. Of course he had not really thought about the fact that ships from The Seven Kingdoms docked in Qarth. Half a world away from Westros, caught up for once by the delight of having a dragon he had not considered the consequences of bringing that dragon out into the city.

Arriving back the palace Ser Jorah exchanged pleasantries with the two guards, thanking them for the tips and telling them of the mischief Viserion had been up. Laughing the guards smiled as they let Ser Jorah throughout into the palace. Walking into the gardens Ser Jorah felt a sense of peace wash over him. From his shoulder Viserion let out a delighted call, second later two calls answered him. Leaping from his shoulder Viserion flew forward a few meters before stopping mid air and looking back at Ser Jorah. Together man and dragon flew and walked through the gardens. Arriving at a fountain made of pale green marble with a spout shaped like an elephant they stopped. Sitting with her feet in the water in a dress of green silk with Daenerys was laughing as Rhaegal climbed on the stone elephant. Inside the fountain Drogon was playfully splashing in the water, his dark scales glittering as the sunlight hit the water. Seeing the pair arrive Daenerys smiled as Viserion landed beside her, the laughter dying as she caught sight of the scratches.

"Ser Jorah what has happened?" Daenerys asked, a spark of anger in her eyes.

"I am sorry Khaleesi, he approached a cat who did not take kindly to meeting him," Ser Jorah began apologetically, explaining the day's events.

Gently stroking the small golden dragon Daenerys listened with a mixture of anger and amazement. Climbing onto her lap Viserion laid against her, his tail gently sweeping from side to side.

"I should have watched him closer," Ser Jorah said, finishing the tale.

"He did not go chained, as much as I dislike seeing him hurt it was partly his own fault," Daenerys replied with a hint of resignation.

"He certainly attracted looks in the streets," Ser Jorah replied, sitting down beside her.

Stretching his wings Viserion curled up on Daenerys lap, soon falling into a deep sleep. Slipping off his slippers Ser Jorah placed his feet into the cooling water. Looking at her dragons Daenerys smiled as Ser Jorah. Sitting together they watched the other two playing in the fountain, splashes from their tails and wings sending water onto the humans. In the trees colourful birds called out while majestic white peacocks strolled through the lush gardens.

"Ser Jorah what is the North like?" Daenerys asked softy.

"Well for starters there are rather large white bears to contend with," Sir Jorah began.

Sitting under the baking sun Ser Jorah spoke of the legend surrounding the foundation of his house. Off an island once ruled by might white bears that could speak. Of winters lands locked in ice and snow. Of the dazzling lights in the sky during winter. Of the bears, white snowy owls, swift hares, lemmings and reindeer. In the peace of the garden dragon and bear sat in comfort and safety.

End.


	2. The Butterfly and the dragons

The Butterfly and the Dragons

It was a few days since Daenerys had freed the Unsullied. In Astapor the army was preparing to leave on a march to Yuunkai. With a long march ahead of them it was crucial the army was well supplied, thus this delay keeping them for today at least behind the city walls. With a huge camp set out it was an impressive sight but the citizens were more than ready to see them gone. Freed Unsullied spoke to them of trouble to come, more trouble perhaps than they were worth.

Walking out of her small tent Melisande looked about her. It was her first day of freedom for over half her life. Walking through the camp, past the embers of fire, past Unsullied sharpening weapons, eating and talking, she couldn't quite believe she was free. Looking up she jumped to one side as three dragons swopped passed her, Viserion swooping down to the floor to catch a fat rat in his jaws. Letting out a blast of fire he looked up her with a happy croak before eating it in one bite, the tail stilling dangling from his jaws as he took to the air. Gasping for breath Melisande looked at the three dragons darting this way and that on their hunt for other rats.

Continuing her walk she was so caught up in watching them that she wasn't watching her feet. Taking a step forward her foot touched something soft, seconds later a Golden Cobra reared up, its long body almost half her height. Its eyes blazing, its fangs holding a deadly poison it preparing to strike. Paralysed with terror Melisande looked at it, her heart racing with the knowledge she would die. The cobra reared to its full height then out of the sky, in a blaze of heat accompanied by ferocious screams came a wave of fire. The cobra turned its head for a second before the fire consumed it. Overcame by the force of the blasts Melisande fell to the floor in shock. All around her shouts, hurried footsteps as the fire burned. Moments later Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion landed in front of her with eyes blazing. Croaking gently they circled her, something that in humans would be called kindness in their eyes.

"Melisande!"

With hurried footsteps Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah and Daenerys arrived, their eyes full of shock and fear. From a distance they had seen the entire incident but had been too far away to prevent it. Kneeling down beside her Daenerys stroked the three dragons, all of them croaking and nuzzling their mother.

"Did it strike you?" Sir Jorah asked, his voice full of fear.

"It didn't not have the opportunity to strike," Melisande replied, lowering her eyes.

"You were very lucky, I've seen those beasts kill strong men," Sir Jorah said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I am honoured the three dragons saved my life," Melisande said, bowing too Daenerys.

Climbing slowly to her feet Melisande bowed to the two knights and too Daenerys. Stroking the dragons Daenerys smiled at Melisandie, her eyes full of genuine concern for the young slave.

"You could stay in camp, I can manage to negations with Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan," Daenerys said kindly.

"I am not hurt your Grace. I must come with you to translate," Melisande replied, her voice full of deference and respect.

"Alright. We had better take the dragons with us," Daenerys said as the trio took to the air.

Walking through the camp with the dragons swooping overhead the four humans entered the city. As they walked the cities inhabitants eyed them wearily, mothers pulling their children back, wide eyed children gasping at the dragons, traders and mercenaries from Westeros looked on in wonder as all the stories of Targaryens came to life and half hidden from view slaves smiled secretly. Arriving at a large open courtyard they found a group of merchants sitting at stone tables under simple silk canopies and sitting on the long stone benches behind the tables. These men the food merchants of the city who bought for the slave population. The looks on their faces made it clear the contempt they held for the slaves, in their minds slaves and cattle were one and the same. Sitting down at the central table Daenerys, Ser Jorah and Ser Barrisstran placed a bag each on the table. With a flutter of wings the trio of dragons landed on on the floor while Melisande stood behind them, her eyes downcast and demure.

Across the table the debate began between the royal party and the canny merchants. With eyes on money and getting rid off the slaves quickly some of the merchants were more amenable to negations while others were keen to bleed to foreigners dry. With a mixture of three languages being spoken Melsandie found herself under the spotlight of the slavers, a couple of them eyeing her with hatred. Muttering under his breath one of the older merchants felt his anger boil over at having to treat with a mere girl, self styled queen or not. To have to speak through her freed slave translator only felt like a further insult.

Speaking to the slavers Melisande translated to words of Daenerys, a half smile on her face at how the young woman saw through the inflated prices offered by the merchants. Then without warning one of the merchants leapt to his feet, grabbing Melisande by the arm and viciously backhanding her sending her crashing to the floor. Leaping to their feet with fury Ser Jorah and Sea Barristran drew their sword. At at exact moment came a shriek of fury accompanied by a haze of wings. A scream of pain that cut through air. Roaring with fury Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion landed around Melisande with eyes glowing with fury. The merchant who had struck Melisande was missing that same hand. Blood pouring from the stump, the hand on the table and the man deathly pale.

"You awoke the dragons," Daenerys hissed, her eyes blazing with fury.

With a furious caw Drogon landed on the table, his eyes fixed dangerously on the merchants. Looking between him and the merchants Daenerys gently stroked his head, the black dragon shooting burst of flame into the air. With swords drawn Ser Jorah and Ser Barristran eyed the merchants angrily.

Laying half stunned on the cool stone floor Melisande watched as four merchants hurriedly carried away their injured colleague. Her head ringing with pain and her on left cheek were four deep, bleeding cuts from the rings the merchant had worn. A deep, angry bruise was already forming on her left arm with the marks of the merchants fingers clearly visible. Then to her amazement Rhaegal leaned forward and with his long tongue he gently licked away the blood from her cheek. Gazing at him she looked into his eyes seeing something she could only describe as compassion staring out of them.

"UP SLAVE!"

The words cut through the magic. Stepping from behind the table one of merchants eyed her angrily as the other merchants looked on with agreement. At this both dragons turned to face the men with glowing eyes.

"Touch her you die!"

Her eyes glowing with fire Daenerys stepped in front of her with Drogon flapping in the air beside her. At her feet Rhaegal and Viserion roared in fury, their bright eyes fixed angrily on the merchants.

"Your man was a fool. If you dare touch Melisancde or me it could be more than a hand you lose."

Seeing the two knights and three dragons the merchants stepped backwards. They were men of business. One slave was not worth their lives.

"We will deliver the goods as agreed. Take your slave from this city," one merchant commended.

Turning on their heals the merchants stalked out of the meeting with their payment and fury in their hearts. Fury not only at the slave girl but at their foolish colleague for daring to attack the girl in the presence of three large dragons and two knights. Slave maybe but knights were not to be taken lightly let alone creatures that breath fire.

Back at the covered benches Daenerys knelt down beside Melisande, white hot fury coursing through her at the sight of the injuries.

"I apologies for causing trouble," Melisande said, her eyes downcast.

"He should not have hit you," Daenerys replied gently.

"We should leave this place, can you stand child?" Ser Barristran asked.

"I can stand."

Smiling kindly Ser Barristran held out his hands to her. Surprised by the kindness Melisande allowed him to help her stand. Instantly the word spun in a blur of colour. Staggering to one side she fell into the arms of Ser Barristran, fear glancing through them as she did. Holding her gently Ser Barristran lifted her into his arms, his eyes full of anger and compassion.

"You cannot walk child."

"Slaves walk. Being hurt does not matter," Melisande whispered.

"You are not a slave. Even if you were you still deserve to be treated when you are hurt," Daenerys said kindly. "Ser Barristran can you carry her?"

"Of course your Grace," Ser Barristran replied.

Leaving the tent they walked through the streets. Laying in the arms of Ser Barristran Melisande watched the dragons flying overhead. As they walked comments from slavers and masters drifted into her ears, the trash words and scorn at seeing a slave being carried. The words shouted at Daenerys that a slave walks no matter how injured to be certain the punishment is effective.

Arriving back at the camp Ser Barristran gently placed Melisande insider her tent. Laying there she watched as a slave healer arrived, a woman in her forties carrying a work basket full of herbs and glass bottles. Kneeling down beside her the woman spoke set about cleaning the wounds of her face, the liquid stinging as it touched the open wounds. With Daenerys help the healer moved Melisandei into a half sitting position than holding a bowl to her lips. Taking the drink Melisande felt all the pain slipping away from her. Laying down she slipped into a peaceful sleep. Looking at Daenerys the healer smiled, a light and respect in her eyes.

"She needs rest. The blow was a powerful one," the healer said, gathering her things.

"No one will disturb her," Daenerys replied.

"You have done a kind thing for the child. Injured slaves walk no matter their injuries. Little rest are they allowed. That man who struck her has a dark reputation among my people, he strikes slave just for looking at him."

"He has one less hand now."

At this the healer chuckled, her eyes dancing across the three dragons who were sitting calmly on the tent floor. Gently Daenerys tucked a pale cream blanket around Melisande. With a flap of his wings Drogon landed on Melisandes bed, curling up cat like at the foot with his long tail wrapping around him. With Rhaegal and Viserion at her side Daenerys left the tend, posting two Unsullied outside least any of merchants decide on revenge for the actions of Drogon.

The morning turned to afternoon with a blaze of heat. Afternoon cooled too evening with the sun still shining. In the coolness of her tent Melisande slowly opened her eyes. Laying in the stillness her head still hurt yet the blinding pain was gone. Feeling the soft blanket she smiled at the peace of the tent. Moving her feet she stopped as they brushed something warm. With a gentle croak Drogon lifted his head up, stretching his wings and tail as he awoke. With a flap he landed on the floor beside her, his head level with hers. Girl and dragon gazed at one another in what seemed like an eternity. Slowly moving onto her side Melisande tentatively reached out a hand to touch Drogon. Placing her hand on his head she gently stroked him, Drogon leaning into the touch.

"Thank for saving me twice,' Melisande whispered, her hand touching the cool scales.

End


	3. The Night Watch

The Night Watch

Season 3 between Astapor and Yunkai

The past: A fight

Clouds hung in the sky, dark grey too deep black holding the promise of rain. It was cool yet not cold. A wind was whipping the waves. Out to sea the notorious smuggler Davos looked up at the sky uneasily, one hand stroking his brown beard as the other held onto the wheel of the ship. He had a precious cargo out of Pentos to deposit at safe spot a few miles south east of the capital and he didn't fancy it all going overboard. For one thing his employers would not be happy which didn't bare thinking about and for another he didn't fancy loosing out on his commission.

In the Dragon Pit Prince Rhaegar Targaryen stood clad in dark armour holding a long sword in his hands. Purple eyes stood out beneath golden hair, a half smile on his lips. Facing him was Sir Barristran Selmy, his blonde hair glittering along with his golden armour of the Kings Guard. All around them other King's Guard not on duty trained with members of the Gold Cloaks. The clang of metal on metal, the shouts and oaths as blows made contact and in the distance just the faintest rumble of thunder. Raising their swords both men charged, their blades clanging together as they fought. Stroke after stroke, charge after charge, skilled move after skilled move they fought as the rain began to fall.

The past: Respect

It was a cool day in King's Landing. In the Red Keep life was carrying on as it always had. Servants busy cleaning floors and rooms. Men at arms going about their duty. Members of King's Guard lay sleeping after the night shift. In the gardens Queen Rhaelle walked among the flowers in a dress of pale pink, one hand resting on her sixth month bump. Feeling the child move she smiled with joy. Nearby King Aerys and Sir Tywin walked together in a serious discussions.

Walking through a courtyard lost in his own thoughts Sir Barristran stopped suddenly. In front of him a group of three squires were tormenting a black kitten by throwing stones at it, using sticks to beat it and picking it up by its tail. Consumed by terror the kitten hissed, its small paws lashing out in a desperate attempt to defend itself. All the while the boys laughed, their faces full of cruelty and malice.

"STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!" Sir Barristran roared marching over to the boys.

Looking at him the boys sneered, sons of high lords they saw themselves as untouchable. Stepping forward the oldest of them, a lad in his mid teens smiled mockingly.

"Do not order us Knight," the boy said with a sneer.

"You are only a knight, we are lords in waiting," jeered a second boy.

At this Sir Barristran glared at them all, his eyes darting between them and the terrified kitten. He hated bullies and this group had the makings of a fine group.

"Leave the kitten now or face the consequences," Sir Barristran replied, a note of steel in his voice.

"Do not interfere with our sport,' snapped the second boy.

"Consequences? Our fathers will hear about this," the first boy said arrogantly.

"They will. Tormenting a defenceless kitten followed by mocking a King'sguard will make them very proud!"

Turning around the boys paled with fright while Sir Barristran turned a touch pale. Leaning against a pillar Prince Rhaegar was watching them, his eyes full of anger. At once all bowed as he walked towards them, his eyes fixed on the boys.

"Apologies to Sir Barristran or face the Black Cells," Prince Rhaegar said.

'Please your Highness we cannot," the first boy stammered, his eyes looking up with fear.

"I am heir so can do as I please. I could send you to the Black Cells and also have you send home in disgrace. Be assured that my ravens can reach your homes before you have left your cells."

Hearing the words the courage melted from the boys faster than stone under dragon fire. It was all well bullying a kitten and mocking a King'sguard but Prince Rhaegar had power. Looking up the trio had gone as pale as the fabled White Walkers and it felt as if the air around them had gone just as cold.

"Sorry."

"I am sorry, it was just a bit of sport."

"Sorry, it's only a mangy kitten."

Bowing to Prince Rhaegar the trio slunk off, their eyes shooting looks of hatred at Sir Barristran as they did. Turing to the prince Sir Barristran smiled.

"My thanks Highness."

"No one insults my friend or a King's Guard," Prince Rhaegar replied kindly.

Together prince and knight captured the terrified kitten, all the time it lashing out and hissing. In the Maester Pycell's study they held it down as he cleaned its wounds. Placing it into a sack prince and knight gasped for breath, both of them covered in scratches and bite marks. Looking at them Maester Pycell chuckled as the screams of the bagged kitten echoed through the room.

"I need to treat you both or else it will be my head," Pycell said kindly.

"That creature is a hellion!" Prince Rhaegar said looking at his cuts.

"Kitchen. He can help keep down the vermin," Sir Barristran said sitting down.

That night at dinner at Sir Barristran took his place behind King Areys and Prince Rhaegar at a seat at the table King Areys. Catching sight of the bandages on both of them King Aerys and Sir Tywin looked at them.

"Pray tell how did both of you come to injure yourselves?" King Areys asked curiously.

"A kitten," Prince Rhaegar replied, explaining the story.

The Past: A broken window

On a bright spring day a group of young nobles and knights were playing a game of football in the Red Keep. Brandon and Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, Prince Rhaegar and Sir Barristran were among them. Laughing as they played it was all good fun. Backwards, forwards and side to side the ball passed between the players. Suddenly after a mighty kick the ball sailed through the air, straight through the window of the Master of Coin. Instantly there came shouting, ripe oaths drifting down through the broken window. Paling young Ned Stark turns to the other players, lords or not now he was in for it and so were the rest of them.

"RUN!" Prince Rhaegar yelled.

At once they all took to their heals, darting though corridors, down winding stairs, passed confused/ worried servants and courtiers, leaping over brooms and taring through the kitchens. Darting through the servants entrances they raced along a road full of carts until they came to a quiet part of the beach. Gasping for breath they gasped for breath, half terrified smiles across their red faces.

"Now dead am I?" Ned Stark asked, collapsing onto a rock.

"As dead as those dragon skulls," Prince Rhaegar replied laughing.

Later that day Prince Rhaegar stood in his fathers study. Behind a desk King Areys was looking at his son with a look not of anger but more annoyance.

"The ball that broke the window, which one of you was it?" King Areys asked.

"I cannot be certain father, the game was so fast that I lost track," Rhaegar replied calmly.

"I would not normally concern myself over such a trifle but my Master of Coin has been in a foul mood all day," King Areys replied with a sigh.

"I am sorry Father but I cannot be certain who broke the window, I could hate to place blame on an innocent party. It was after an accident," Rhaegar replied with a smile bordering onto a smirk.

"In the future Rhaegar take the game away from the Red Keep or at least away from any windows," King Areys replied.

"Of course Father," Rhaegar replied.

Bowing Rhaegar felt the room at the same time as his mother walked in through a separate door. Queen Rhaella had of course overheard the entire exchange. Glancing at one another the king and queen smiled.

Outside the room Rhaegar raced down three flights of stares to the chambers of the Stark brothers. Opening the door he saw all the footballers sitting or standing nervously, the boys bowing as he entered.

"Well what is, banishment?" Robert Baratheon joked.

"A warning not to play in the Red Keep," Rhaegar replied.

At once a sense of relief flooded through the boys, chuckling at their narrow escape they opened a flagon of wine and toasted their luck.

The Present: Atsopor to Yuukai

In his canvas tent Sir Barristran woke with a start. Gasping for breath he scrambled for a drink of water. Trembling with a beating heart he could feel the cool night air as he drank. He wouldn't not sleep any more. Pulling on a cloak he staggered out into the night. All around him the camp was silent with ghost like figures of Unsullied guardsmen wandering silently through the tents. Walking through the silence he stopped outside Daenerys's tent, looking inside he saw her curled up asleep with three dragons curled up beside her. In the night one set of dragon eyes were glowing brightly, the dragon moving his tail from side to side. Smiling he walked away knowing she was well cared for.

Reaching a rocky outcrop he sat down wrapped in his cloak, his mind drifting back to Rhaegar Targaryen. So much promise, so much hope and so many opportunities. To hope the people had clung too that Rhaegar could perhaps force his father to abdicate and so end the years of madness. A new golden age ruled by a golden dragon and his sun queen.

"You threw it all away for Lyanna Stark. Rhaegar you bloody fool!"

Then there came the sofa sound of wings. Rhaegal landing on the rock beside Sir Barristran, his head moving back and forth curiously and his bright eyes looking at Sir Barristran. Letting out a soft caw Rhaegal nuzzled Sir Barristran's shoulder. Looking at the green dragon Sir Barristran cautiously extend a hand, gently stroking his head as the little dragon cawed gently. Settling down beside the knight Rhaegal let out a gentle croak, his tail lazily swishing from side to side. Looking down at the dragon Sir Barristran could almost see Prince Rhaegar staring back at him.

"The Seven Kingdoms were yours. The people, the lords and ladies saw your honour against your father's madness. They would have followed you, they wanted you to face is abdication. You could have ruled with Viserys as your loyal brother and Hand. Daenerys should have grown up a princess in King's Landing. Aerys could have lived in peaceful retirement. Seven know your mother would have been overjoyed to be free of him! Lord Tywin could have been your first Hand. The Starks your loyal friends and the Baratheons loyal wardens at Storm's End."

Vision of an alternate future

Princess Daenerys raced through the gardens of the Red Keep with Princess Rhaenys, Prince Aegon, Sansa Stark, Steffon Baratheon and Marcella (granddaughter of Tywin Lannister). All were laughing as a smiling, blindfolded Jamie Lannister chased them. On a tier above the games King Rhagar, Queen Ellia, Caitlin and Eddard Stark, Lyanna and Robert Baratheon, Dowager Queen Rhaella and Tywin Lannister sat laughing and talking. Beside them Prince Viserys and a beautiful golden haired women wearing a rose necklace sat playing with two children, both less than three years old. They had eyes only for each other and their children, happy in their own little world.

Down below Daenerys jumped out of Jamie's grasp sending him tumbling into a bed of roses with a yelp. Gasping Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, Sansa, Stefan and Marcella looked up at the adults in horror. Roaring with laughter Rhaegar and Tywin walked down and pulled Jamie out of the roses, his face and hands torn and bloody with his blindfold torn.

"Oh those roses have thorns," Jamie groaned

"I am sorry Sir Jamie," Daenerys said.

"It was an accident Princess, you are very fast," Jamie replied smiling.

The Present

"You gave up all that for a she wolf from the North! I warned you Rhaegar, I warned against her Rhaegar but you didn't listen!"

Sensing the mixture of sadness and anger within him Rhaegal rubbed his against Sir Barristran's cheek. Together man and dragon watched the sun rising in a mixture of purple, pinks, blues, reds, yellows and oranges. Birds began to call, a soft gentle breeze, a gentle stirrings of the camp. From behind the sound of soft boots on the dirt. Turning around the pair saw Daenerys behind them, half asleep, her hair tangled, wrapped in a thick blanket with Drogon and Viserion flying beside her.

"Good morning my Queen," Sir Barristran said, bowing with a smile.

"When I woke up Rhaegal was missing," Daenerys replied softly.

"I couldn't sleep, he has been keeping me company.'

"I could have a maester give you something to help," Daenerys replied.

Sitting down beside him Daenerys wrapped her cloak around her against the morning chill. Stretching his wings Viserion lay his head against her legs as Drogon settled down at her side. Sitting together Daenerys, Sir Barristran and the dragons watched the sun rising. There in the peace of the morning they could be the only ones alive in the world. Glancing over at his queen Sir Barristran couldn't help but be reminded of how similar she looked the the last Targaryen queen he had served. There was so much kindness in her yet such a vulnerability, a sense of aloneness to her that he had not seen in other royalty. So much was missing from her, he could see the scares that the exile, the scars lack of family had left on her heart.

"Sir Barristran could you tell me about my family?" Daenerys asked softly.

"Of course my Queen, what would you like to know?" Sir Barristran asked with a smile.

"Tell me about my mother. Viserys would never tell me anything, only that I am the reason for her death," Daenerys replied, her voice breaking with emotion.

Hanging her head Daenerys hugged Drogon, tears falling from her eyes as she thought back to all the times she had asked Viserys about their family. To the guilt he had always made her feel about being born. The sense of how much he had hated her, of how much better his life would had been had she never been born. A loneliness so strong that it felt like her whole life was a mistake. Then to her surprise she felt a hand brushing her hair. Looking up she saw Sir Barristran stroking her hair, his eyes full of compassion. Before she could speak he took her in his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed.

"You are not to blame for Rhaella's death. She was already weak from years of stillbirths, miscarriages and ill treatment by King Aerys. He was warned time again of the risks to her life should she be forced to bare more children," Sir Barristran said softly as the three dragons lay theirs head on her back.

"Please tell me about her. I just want to know something," Daenerys whispered, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Queen Rhaella had a smile that could light up an entire room," Sir Barristran began.

A while later Sir Jorah found Daenerys, Sir Barristran and the three dragons sitting together. Daenerys had her head leaning against Sir Barristran shoulder and one of his arms was around her. The three dragons were curled up happily around them, their tales flicking from side to side. For the first time ever Sir Jorah saw her listening to tales about stories of the Targaryens with a smile on her face. Stopping short he smiled, to him they looked like family, a grandfather taking care of his granddaughter surrounded by the family pets.

End


	4. A meeting of dragon and wolf

A meeting of dragon and wolf

The air was cold and crisp. The sky in icy blue with snow blowing gently in the breeze. The tall evergreen tress of the dark forest covered in snow. In the middle distance Winterfell stood as a bastion of safety in the cold. A clamour of noise drifting from outside its walls.

In the dark of the woods a large shape with brilliant red eyes stood surveying the scene. Shaggy, powerful with a gleaming white coat Ghost stood in the shadow of the forest. Home. The stones of his home. There his Alpha was. There his pack mates were. Many had been lost yet those he loved remained.

He had left Castle Black alone when the wind had told him of his Alpha's return. He had skirted the forces of the dead. They held no fear for him. All that mattered was being reunited with his pack.

Stepping into the open he lifted his nose the sniff the air, one paw raised as he read the story in the wind. There, his Alpha's scent. A female two legged also. Something strange, unknown to him yet stirring some deep ancestral memory. Looking up his heart and paws took flight sending snow cascading into the air

From out of the icy blue sky Drogon and Rhaegal swooped down, lightly skimming just above the tops of the trees. Seeing the wolf they roared, their eyes fixed on the white shape that was racing them.

Glancing up at the dragons Ghost let out a howl of pure elation full of love that cut through the air like Valerian Steel. Sitting on Rhaegal's back Jon's eyes went wide with shock. Nearly falling off he could barely believe what he was seeing.

"GHOST"

Holding on tightly Jon urged Rhaegal to fly faster. As Drogon let out a roar Daenerys looked down at the white wolf.

"JON SLOW DOWN!"

Caught up in the moment he didn't hear her, all his attention focused on his best friend. Through the snow wolf and dragon raced each other across the tundra. Diving low Rhaegal flew low bringing wolf and dragon close to each other. Close, unsure of each other yet neither feeling threatened by the other.

On the walls of Winterfell Arya and Sansa stood watching the race with disbelief. The howls seemed to soar straight to their hearts. Laughing they raced hand in hand through the castle headless of the calls of Ser Jamie, Ser Davros or what people thought of them. Ghost was home! In that moment that was the most important thing in the world.

On the plan in front of Winterfell Rhaegal land causing the snow under Ghost's paws to shake. Through the snow wolf and dragon regarded each another. A million years passed in that moment. A tension that could be cut with Valerian Steel.

Climbing from Rhaegal's back Jon stopped for a moment. Then with a smile warm enough to melt The Wall Jon stepped into the no-mans land between fire and ice. In that instant Ghost leaped forward sending Jon tumbling to the snow, smothering him in licks with his tail wagging furiously. Laughing Jon forced himself to sit up, wiping his face as he hugged his friend.

"Never thought I'd see you again."

Then both became aware of Drogon standing to one side while at the same time Arya and Sansa skidded to a halt. Tentatively stepping forward the white wolf approached the green dragon. Lowering his head Rhaegal looked at the wolf. With barks, yips and whines from one and hisses, croaks and rumbles from the other ice and fire spoke. Then both touched noses. Both their tails wagging happily. Stepping in-between them Jon placed a hand on Rhaegals nose and the other on Ghost's head. Arya, Sansa and Daenerys watching with amazement.

"At least I don't have to worry about you two fighting," Jon chuckled.

At this Ghost let out a bark. As if to prove the fact he skipped passed the green dragon, greeting Sansa and Arya with howls and licks. Laughing they hugged him as he rolled onto his back, all fours paws on the air as they rubbed his belly.

"Welcome home Ghost," Sansa said.

From beside Rhaegal Drogon let out a rumble. Climbing down from his back Daenerys watched the wolf uneasily. Seeing her Ghost climbed to his paws, a happy look on his face as he trotted over to Jon.

"He won't hurt you,' Jon said calmly, ruffling his fur.

"I wasn't expecting him to be so large," Daenerys replied.

Nervously stepping forward Daenerys held out a hand. Walking up to her Ghost sniffed it. Behind them Drogon and Rheagel let out small rumbles. Standing together Jon, Sansa and Arya watched. Hardly daring to breath Daenerys placed a hand on a the wolf's head. Then Ghost began licking her other hand, his tail wagging happily. Smiling Daenerys looked over at Jon as Drogon, Rhaegal and Ghost began talking to each other.

Turning their heads Drogon and Rhaegal's eyes landed on Arya and Sansa. Accompanied by Ghost the three dragons walked towards the three wolves, Sansa drawing back behind Jon as Rhaegal and Drogon approached. Standing between the black and green dragons Daenerys smiled. Wagging his tail Ghost tugged at Sansa's cloak, Sansa as pale as the snow around her.

"Lady Stark they will not hurt you,' Daenerys said.

"They are amazing," Arya said, her eyes full of wonder.

Stepping forward Arya entered the space between the two dragons. At once both of bent their heads, they eyes fixed on her. Taking off a glove Arya placed a hand in the side of Rhaegal's face. Letting out a low rumble Rhaegal closed his eyes.

"Would you like to fly?" Daenerys asked.

"Is that possible?"

"You are Jon's sister, he can take you on Rhaegal."

"Alright then," Arya replied, her eyes alight with joy.

Before another word could be said or there could be any chance of objection from Sansa, Jon and Arya climbed onto Rhaegal's back. With a roar the dragon took to the air, swiftly followed by Drogon and Daenerys. Up into the crystal clear sky they flew, the great castle little more than a small dot beneath them. Gazing around Arya's eyes were dancing with joy as the dragons twisted and turned through the icy blue sky. All the North was laying below them like a map. From the forest, to the mighty rivers, huge snow covered mountains, small villages, isolated farms dotted with shaggy sheep and cows, small towns, old stone castles and out to the sea. Glancing at each other Jon and Arya smiled, they were home.

End.


End file.
